The Three Brothers
by Onyx-Pendant
Summary: As the magical world falls into a state of total warfare, it is divided into three sides, each led by a powerful mage. Watch as these titans of magic clash in epic battles as the wielders of the three fabled Deathly Hallows wage war against each other to decide the future of the magical world.
1. Introduction

This is not a tale of War.

Nor of Plight.

This story is not about Sickness, Sadness, Or Ruin.

It is not about Chaos.

It is about Chaos' opposite.

It is about Balance.

This story is about Death.

Once upon a time, three brothers, were travelling along a long, twisting road at twilight.

They reached a deep and dangerous river where the waters ran fast and strong, and anyone who attempted to swim across would drown.

Well-versed in the forms of magic, the brothers conjured together a grand bridge with their wands, and moved to cross the deadly river.

Halfway though the bridge, a hooded figure appeared before them. The figure was the spirit of Death, cheated from her prize.

Death cunningly pretended to congratulate them and offered to award them with gifts of their own choosing.

The eldest brother, a brutal man, asked for a wand more powerful than any other in the world.

Death granted his wish by fashioning the Elder Wand from a branch of an elder tree sitting nearby on the banks of the river.

The second brother, an arrogant man, chose to further humiliate death, and asked for the power to recall the dead back from the grave.

Death granted his wish by crafting the Resurrection Stone from a smooth rock picked from the riverbed.

The third and youngest brother, who was the most wise of all the three, did not entirely trust Death, and asked for something to enable him to live his life without fear of Death.

Death, despite herself, was impressed at the young man's guile, and reluctantly, handed over her own Invisibility Cloak.

The three brothers took their grand prizes and soon went about their separate ways.

The eldest brother travelled to a village where a rival of his lived. He demanded a duel and fought the wizard using the Elder Wand, instantly killing his foe.

Leaving his enemy dead in the dirt, the eldest brother walked to an inn not far from the duelling site and spent the night there.

Drunken from heavy drink, his confidence, and lust of the Elder Wand's power, the eldest brother boasted of the great and powerful wand, gifted to him from Death herself.

That very night, an unknown murderous wizard who had heard the eldest brother's boast, crept into the inn as the brother was in a deep, drunken sleep.

Driven by greed, and a want for the wand made by Death herself, the wizard slit the oldest brother's throat for good measure, and stole the wand away.

And so Death claimed the first brother.

The second brother returned to his home where he lived alone.

Turning the stone thrice in his hand, the figure of the long dead girl he had once hoped to marry, appeared before him.

Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him by Death's power over her soul.

Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there, and her new life was one of sorrow and suffering.

Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, hung himself by the neck so as truly to join her.

And so Death claimed the second brother as her own.

Death searched for the youngest brother as many frustrating years passed on, but never succeeded in finding him.

It was only when the third brother reached a grand old age, that he took off the Cloak of Invisibility, and gave it to his child.

The youngest brother greeted Death with a smile, and together they departed this life as old friends.

Though Death had claimed the three brothers, she found great amusement in what fate befell those that held her unique gifts.

Some found greatness.

Others, well, others simply found Death herself.

And so Death did not take back the artifacts she created.

Instead she left them in the mortal world.

And she swore that should there ever be a mortal man with enough power, enough confidence, and enough wisdom, to successfully wield and master all three of her relics, that such a man would surely be her equal.

And so she would remove from him the burden of his mortality, and walk with him for eternity.

That was long ago.

To this day, though Death's ancient artifacts still exist in the world, though they still change hands every few years, creating new legends and tragedies, no one man has managed to master all three artifacts.

Not yet.

But Death is patient.

And right now, Death is abundant amongst wizard kind.

The Dark Lord Voldemort raged his hellacious war for years, thwarting Death herself with a twisted, accursed, and incomplete form of immortality.

Eventually the magical war spilled into the mundane world.

No one was prepared.

Not the mundane, who were suddenly faced with something they had only ever dreamed of.

Not the magical, who, so sure in their own power, underestimated the force the mundane world could bring to bear.

Magic is powerful, yes, and ancient. Science on the other hand, is more of a new development, but no less dangerous.

As the magical world was revealed, total war broke out.

Chaos reigned.

The mundanes trying to control the untameable force that is magic, and the magicals trying desperately to hold their ground when so greatly outnumbered.

For a time, it seemed as though magic and science were evenly matched.

A stunner, a rubber bullet.  
The killing curse, a metal round.  
Blasting curses, shotgun shells.  
Bombarding spells, hand grenades.  
Fiendfyre, napalm.

The war raged on. And both sides dropped like flies.

But the magicals were outmatched.

Despite their power, they were hopelessly outnumbered.

And no spell exists that has the same destructive power as a nuclear bomb.

That was a lesson learned the hard way.

And Japan, was once again, the unfortunate recipient.

The magical world balked at the destructive powers the mundanes held at their fingertips.

A hundred wizards casting their most powerful spells couldn't destroy an entire city in the blink of an eye.

The mundanes not only could, but did, and were prepared to do it again.

And so, when the mundane governments held an announcement for all the world to see, the magical world listened, and agreed to their terms.

The mundanes were evacuated from the United Kingdom.

And all the magicals in the world were gathered and sent to live there, on the island, far away from the rest of the world.

Though the war with the mundanes had settled into an uneasy truce, the war between the magicals themselves only intensified.

It has been many, many years since Death claimed the three brothers.

But new men have arisen to take their mantle.

The Lord Voldemort, leading his forces of darkness.

He who seeks to rule the magical world, and to defeat the mundane.

On his hand rests a ring that holds the Ressurectiom Stone, and with a twist of that ring, the dead obey his commands.

He leads an army of Death Eaters and dark creatures into war.

The Old Soul, Albus Dumbledore, the mournful leader of the Light.

He seeks simply peace, and prosperity for magical world.

In his hands he holds the Elder Wand, and from it his power pours forth with all the strength of a raging storm.

He leads his Order and allies into war.

The Young Hero, Harry Potter, The leader of The Marauders.

He seeks true equality, for both mundanes and magicals, and offers shelter to the mundane families of fresh-blooded wizards and witches.

On his shoulders rest the Invisibility Cloak, and so long as he wears it, Death will never find him, even if his head is removed from his shoulders.

He leads his army of mundanes and magicals alike into war.

Death watches these three powerful men.

The Dark Lord screams his rage, and the dead rise from the ground to heed his call.

The Old Soul whispers his sorrow, and his power surges forth like an unstoppable wave.

The Young Hero laughs his defiance, and Death cannot touch him.

Death watches, and she waits.

Because she knows her wait is almost over.

Soon she will finally have her equal.

Her master.

Of these three, who shall it be?

Only Time will tell.

And Death is very patient.


	2. The Exchange

Chapter 2. The Exchange.

The telltale flash of the green flames of floo fire lit up the darkened room.

If the room wasn't as empty and desolate as it was, any witch or wizard would have been suprised to see nobody emerge from the flames.

The green fire slowly flickered out, casting it's last light into the room, revealing an old abandoned bar, filled with tables, chairs, and cobwebs.

The flame died, and the room was shadowed by darkness, with only the pale light of the moon shining through the stained and broken windows.

There was silence, for a moment.

Stillness.

Then there was a whisper.

Magical energy surged through the air, buzzing and crackling like electricity.

The tables and chairs shook and rattled.

They morphed and changed.

Wood turned to flesh and bone.

Claw and fur.

Where each table was before, stood the hulking form of a grizzly bear.

The chairs were replaced by german shepards.

In the darkness, their teeth and claws glittered against the moonlight.

The steel nails and screws holding them together hadn't been transfigured.

Simply reshapened.

The twelve dogs and four bears growled low in their throats. Turning their heads to and fro, sniffing and listening for signs of life and prey.

They found nothing. And simply stood.

Then, a figure immerged from nowhere.

The man was tall, muscular, with messy black hair and fierce emerald eyes.

A jagged lightning bolt scar was cut down the center of his forehead. It was only one of many old scars that covered his body and arms.

He was dressed in thickly padded leather armour and boots, over a mundane black military uniform. Across his back, in a long leather sheath, rested a scoped bolt-action long rifle.

In his right hand he held a holly wand.

On his belt at his right was sheathed a large, serrated knife, next to an empty wand holster, and to the left of the belt was holstered a monstrous black revolver with a rubber grip.

Across the backside of the belt were seven different leather pouches, each charmed to be impervious and spell resistant like the holsters and sheaths, as well as to have extended space.

From left to right, they were filled to the magically-extended brim, with high grade healing, blood-replenishing, and pepper-up potions. The center pouch held magazines for the rifle, and the other three held flashbangs, smoke and frag grenades, respectively.

Criss-crossing his armoured chest were two bandoliers, holding the large, steel, hollow-pointed bullets for the massive revolver.

Around his shoulders loosely hung a shimmering cloak.

The young killer looked every bit the dangerous, battle-hardened warlord that he really was.

The man looked around the room, reached up to a black stone earring on his right side, and held the stone between two fingers, it began to softly glow as he spoke aloud.

"Its clear. Come through. I've already arranged a little backup."

Instantly, the fireplace behind him roared back to life once more, the green light flickering harshly against the steel teeth and claws of the beasts scattered around the room.

And more figures immerged from the flames.

-

Harry James Potter, age 24, Leader of The Marauders, ran his free hand through his hair under his Invisibility Cloak. The illusion of himself standing in his place mimicking his action instantly.

The illusion wasn't his idea, it was Hermione's. Death's Cloak was the world's greatest armour. As long as he wore it he would never die. He could still get hurt, yes. Pain and agony were no stranger to him, but he could be torn limb from limb, and as long as he remains covered by that cloak, Death would never come for him.

He hadn't taken the cloak off for years now.

Of course, leading an army into battle was a hard thing to do while you were invisible.

Hermione, the genius girl that she is, devised a solution.

She was probably the only mortal in the world to ever improve an artifact crafted by the hand of a God.

She stitched intricate runes into the fabric of the cloak. With a little flex of Harry's power, the runes would activate, and a perfect illusion of himself would appear right in the empty space where he stood, mimicking his every move.

The illusion made it far easier to interact with others, while not taking away the security of the cloak.

Should he wish it, he could even move the illusion away from himself. Only seven or so paces before it was out of the runes area of effect, but more than enough to confuse an enemy mid-combat.

It was very effective.

In his opinion, one of the best results of all Hermione's expirements during the war.

Not that he would tell her that, of course. She was far too proud to stand for being told that a bit of intricate sewing was one of her greatest achievements.

So now he stood under his cloak, the intense gaze of his illusion watching as the rest of his group came through the green flames, and stepped into The Three Broomsticks.

First came a group of three, two armoured wizards, holding between them a wounded witch, too weak to walk on her own.

Then two mundane men stepped through, armed to the teeth with automatic rifles, handguns, assorted grenades and body armour.

They nodded to Harry in greeting, and casting a distrustful eye over the assortment of beasts, moved to stand next to the three magicals that came before them.

Then came the children.

Boys and girls of varying young ages. Twelve of them. None of them even as old as their number. Each of them looking around with wide and awe-filled eyes.

Two more mundane men stepped through the flames, bringing up the rear of the group, just as heavily armed and armoured as their fellows.

The flames died again as their boots left it.

The room was packed now.

Filled to the brim with wild beasts, killers, and children.

Harry did a quick headcount.

One Harry, four bears, twelve wolves, two wizards, one wounded witch, four armed mundanes, and twelve fresh-blooded children.

Quite the merry little group they had.

Waving his wand Harry cast four spells in quick succession, and all four bears faded from view. Disillusioned.

He flexed his will and each wolf went to the side of a child.

A couple waves of his wand and the wounded witch was unconscious and floating in the air, unburdening the two wizards.

He barked out an order, and two children and two wolves moved to stand by each of the guards.

They were divided into seven groups of five now.

Harry and his four invisible bears.

And a Marauder, two wolves, and two children in each other group.

The unconscious witch floated gently in the middle of them all.

Harry spoke again. "Alright, stay in formation, and keep your eyes alert. Hogsmead was overrun by Voldemort's Inferi a week ago. The Order promised they cleared it out already so we could safely make this exchange. Even still it wouldn't suprise me to find a few corpses still wandering around looking for somebody to eat. They'll be hard to see in the dark of night. Stay on your guard."

Getting the desired nods, Harry turned swiftly around, and, feeling bold, blew the doors off of their hinges with a flick of his wand.

-

They had been walking for half an hour.

Hogwarts could be seen over the rise of the hill, not too far away, now.

Four flashlights, three overpowered lumos spells, and even three patroni for good measure provided light for the group as they pushed forward toward the castle.

One of the wolves barked.

The group stopped dead in its tracks instantly.

Harry mentally commanded the wolf that had barked, and it took deep breaths in through its nose, smelling for any approaching foe.

It barked again.

Twice.

It's hackles raised as it faced the trendline, it and the other wolves growled low in their throats all at once.

A low, rumbling sound that any good instinct would tell you was not a good sign.

Harry ordered his men to ready their weapons.

The wolf had only barked twice. But he had learned the hard way that transfigured animals weren't always the best trackers. Still better than him, no doubt, but not the best.

They waited for a few minutes. The eyes of the Marauders diligently scanning the trendline, while the wolves did the same, and the children whispered and worried amongst themselves.

Then, in tandem, two figures emerged from the woods.

Their movements were slow and jagged. Lurching and uncertain. Their skin an unnatural milky white.

"Inferi." Harry whispered.

The mundanes cocked their rifles, but Harry calmed their nerves with a wave of his hand.

The entire group stood stock still.

Harry didn't exhale until he was absolutely certain there was only two of those things coming towards them.

And as he breathed out, the Inferi died again.

The disillusion charm melted off of two of the large bears, standing tall on their hind legs, not a two feet away from the walking corpses.

The bears slammed their arms down ontop of the prey before them, almost as one. Shattering bones and tearing flesh as the steel claws and teeth ripped away at the undead.

The mauling was over in a few seconds.

Those Inferi would never move again.

The threat gone, the two bloodstained bears began to make their way back to the group. As they got closer to the group, Harry waved his wand again, and they faded back from view once more.

The children were frightened now. But that was okay. Better that they learn right away how dangerous their new world really is.

Harry grinned to himself at the efficiency displayed by his beasts.

Battlefield transfiguration and animation.

It was his specialty.

Turning the very earth the enemy stood upon and all the items around them into weapons.

It took some power and mental fortitude to maintain and control all of his creations at once. But Harry had plenty of that to spare. And he was very experienced.

Smaller and mid sized animals like dogs, lions, and bears were easy.

It was the big ones, the earth golems and the transfigured houses-into-dragons and such, those were the ones that were hard to control.

Usually he could only hold one of those at a time without straining himself.

He did three at once, almost year ago. During a particularly nasty encounter with one of Voldemort's hunting parties.

Turning the three houses on the left side of the road behind the attackers into three massive dragons, sicking them on the evil bastards from behind.

That ended that battle pretty quickly.

It also put Harry to sleep for two days.

Magical exhaustion isn't something taken easily.

He reached out and gently patted the nose of the nearest invisible bear.

Good, not-so-little killers.

His proficiency in quick transfiguration was one of the reasons he preferred the disarming charm so much.

There's nothing in the world quite like the look on a Death Eaters face when you disarm them, transfigure their wand into a venemous snake as soon as it leaves their hand, and banish it straight into their face.

It was a hard little spellset to chain effectively, as you only have a few seconds to cast the three spells accurately for it to really work perfectly. But he had plenty of time to practice that little trick.

Hogwarts loomed in the distance, and Harry glanced back at the children behind them.

He was almost jealous of them.

Almost all of his fondest memories were behind those castle walls.

No time to dwell on that now, he thought.

And so the group pressed on.

-

As they walked through the grand double doors of the great hall, escorted by some rather tense Order members, Harry took a quick inventory of the massive room. The first figure he recognized was Albus Dumbledore himself, perhaps the only calm man in the room, smiling genially at Harry as he strode into the room, flanked by his now visible bears and the rest of his group.

The second figure he recognized stood ten paces left of Dumbledore. And there were no good memories behind this stranger, only one burning accusation.

Harry didn't let his eyes linger on the brown-haired man for long. Instead focusing on the smiling old man in the center of the hall, the only one not actually holding a weapon, and the biggest potential threat they would face all day.

"Harry, my boy." Dumbledore spoke, "It's good to see you walking in these halls again."

Harry smiled in return "It's good to be back, Albus, I have many fond memories of this place. Many of which involve yourself."

Dumbledore chuckled warmly, before looking disconcertedly at the massive revolver bolstered at Harry's side. "I see you've acquired a new toy."

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. As he drew the revolver from its holster, and, ignoring the tensing Order members, spun it gently around his finger. "It's not a toy, my friend, it's one of the finest weapons I've ever handled."

Harry's eyes flickered to the brown-haired man and back.

"As a matter of fact, Albus, while we are on the subject, I have a gift for you, courtesy of our little rat in Voldemort's ranks. If you're interested."

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell, my boy."

Harry smiled. "Alright, then."

Quicker than the eye could see, Harry caught the revolver by the handle, mid-spin, and shot the brown-haired man through his heart.

The bullet, a hollow-pointed, full-metal round, chambered 454. Casull, was a 335 grain weight bullet, which left the barrel of the revolver traveling over 1,600 feet per second, and delivering well over 2,000 pounds of pressure upon the moment of contact.

It was a shot that could have brought an elephant down to its knees, and a gun that was more of a hand-cannon than a pistol.

It blew a hole the size of a grapefruit in the center of the Order member's chest, flung him backwards off of his feet, and splattered what little remained of his heart across the wall behind him, as Harry calmly reholstered the beastly weapon.

All around him Order members yelled in shock and anger, and Harry suddenly found himself under the points of twenty glowing wands. The Marauders and assorted animals on his side quickly readied themselves for an unexpected fight.

Just when it seemed like all hell was going to break loose, both leaders moved in tandem, mimicking each other's actions perfectly as they waved their hands in a clear order for their forces to stand down.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. But seemed to be at a loss for words. So Harry spoke instead.

"That was the sixth traitor I've discovered amongst your ranks, Albus. I would suggest you start keeping a tighter leash on those in your house, before you find yourself surrounded by more enemies than friends."

Dumbledore sighed, and spoke softly in reply, "Yes, my boy, that is also the third one you've executed without waiting to hear my thoughts on the matter. While I understand your want for swift brutality when dealing with these dark wizards, might I suggest next time the use of a stunner? That way you won't scar the minds of the children here, and my Order won't be so inclined to attack you in retaliation."

Harry nodded in acceptance, and said "You might want to have an elf clean that mess up before breakfast is served."

As Dumbledore called forth a few elves to do just that, Harry looked back at his group, and motioned for the two wizards to bring forward the wounded girl. "Sirius, Remus, bring Luna here please."

They did so, holding the unconscious blonde girl gingerly between them.

Dumbledore looked at her worriedly, "Miss Lovegood, is she quite all right?"

Harry shook his head. "She was attacked by a group of Voldemort's werewolves, she managed to escape before anything too awful happened, but she was bit, and the wounds from a werewolf's teeth and claws are cursed, as you know. They won't heal despite our attempts, I was hoping you would be willing to have Madame Pomfrey look her over, she's the best healer I know."

Dumbledore nodded, and with a clap of his hands, Fawkes appeared and flamed the injured girl away to the infirmary.

Harry thanked him, and moved forward to the real reason they were here.

"My agreement with the Mundane ambassadors still stands, this week they found and sent in these twelve children, and their families. Per our own agreement, I have enlisted and begun training of the mundanes, and brought the magical children here to you, so they might get a proper magical education and upbringing. Provided that you hold to your end of the deal and agree to let them leave to rejoin their families if they so wish it at the end of their education."

Dumbledore nodded with a merry twinkle in his eyes, ever the educator, excited at the prospect of new students.

"Yes, of course my dear boy, children are always welcome in the halls of Hogwarts, even in times as dark as these." The old man smiled kindly, and despite himself, Harry returned it with a grin.

"Yes, I almost envy them."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Don't we all wish to be children once more?"

Harry laughed, and nodded amicably toward the smiling old man. "Olivander outfitted each of them with a matching wand, but is running low on supplies, he requests a shipment from your greenhouses and livestock in return for his services to the children."

Dumbledore nodded smartly, "It shall be done."

Harry grinned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper, and handing it gently to Dumbledore.

"This is the location of a temporary safehouse, there will be guards there 24/7, when Luna is healthy enough to be on her own again, please have Fawkes bring her here. They will bring her home"

Dumbledore nodded, and cocked an eyebrow. "Leaving so soon, Harry?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, unfortunately the dementors have been acting out lately, we can't be gone too long, I need to regain control of them."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Travel safely then, my boy."

Harry smiled, "I will, sir. We'll be back in a week or two with any more children the Mundanes send us."

Getting a happy nod from the chipper old man, Harry let the kids walk forward to join the Order members, and turned towards the Marauders behind him.

"Alright, men, we're headed back to Azkaban. It's time to go home."

And away they went.


End file.
